Transparent
by yoiidere
Summary: Marshall Lee/Fionna - The true meaning behind Marshall's words in the episode "Bad Little Boy." (Bonus chapter - Fionna's POV)
1. Transparent

_Don't you know I'm a villain?_

Solitary was a given for the mere, supernatural being I was destined to be. When they sensed my presence, a sudden spark of alarm and panic glint in their eyes, proof that Conscience had told them what needed to be said in order to protect themselves clear of the Vampire King. The title itself—although a bit exaggerate, I must say—was simply just that: a title. Not that I was completely innocent to the point where I had not earned the rank, but my soul was truly not a dark one. Though, if I were to go about my way to explain this, no one would believe me. No one believes the bad guys.

_Every night, I'm out killin', sending everyone running like children._

It's true that at a time, the spill of human blood put me in a frenzy. The feeling alone was able drive one into a self-imposed coma. Uncontrollably, incoherently. My mind blocked out every other thought when I saw it. The color was all that mattered. As long as something was red, that's all my body required for satisfaction, but just the sight of that dark red liquid sent shivers down my spine. Yearning, my tongue whipped around these impure lips of mine, lips that could only hide under a strong, innermost desire to plunge forth and plant them on the necks of my ignorant victims.

I was a young vampire in the period I used to hurt others intentionally. Although my memory wasn't the greatest, fragments would appear in my mind whenever I was asleep. Pitch black, dreamless visions were my favorites. At least then, I didn't wake up by the nightmares of my past, my voice only able to describe the agony by the same blood-curdling scream that escaped between uneven sobs.

The days my mind recalled horrible memories were the only days I'd see Fionna. She was the light you saw at the end of a long, frightening tunnel; my lost hope, the luminous innocence I longed for myself. She was my energy, the reason I ever got out of the house to leave behind the insecurities holding me down from the world and beyond. Her very spirit reminded me consistently of the sincerity of life and everything it had to offer. Because of her, I was able to surpass my urge to kill myself, or at least attempt to do so.

_I know why you're mad at me. I've got demon eyes, and they're looking right through your anatomy, into your deepest fears._

Naive. That's the way she should've stayed, but even the Vampire King doesn't have the will to hold a front.

Whenever Fionna asked, I'd deny it. "It's nothing," I'd lie through my teeth every time I met up with her after being asked about suspicious black bags under bloodshot eyes. "Just didn't get enough sleep."

But she was smarter than that, quicker, not that it was something that could easily be hidden. I sensed it, too, that the blond heroine was slowly recognizing a pattern in my unusual behavior. After about a month, the questions I had stealthily avoided all my life had been stacked numerously by her eagerly troubled voice. Repudiation didn't get her off my back, and finally, the secrets that had been kept in these past few hundred years deluged in a matter of seconds.

After telling her my background, I expected her to run or at least show me that fearful, disgusted expression the other humans used to show me before they went into an unavailing sprint, but all she did was cry at my suspense and thrust four words into my brain.

"You were so lonely."

Since then, Fionna never left my side. She was always there, reassuring me that I wasn't alone anymore and that there would always be someone whose presence would be enough to ease my pain.

Every time she looked into my eyes for more than four seconds, it reminded her of the people I killed, the blood I shed, and the writhing bodies my young self had not thought carefully enough to leave be. Just as she stared into mine, her sapphire gleaming irises showed me the anxiety from within.

Was she hanging out with me because she wanted to, or because she felt sorry for me? She feared that if she left me alone, I'd go along with my attempts of suicide. Often, I'd ask myself this question and doubted my relationship with her.

_Baby, I'm not from here. I'm from the Nightosphere._

Chaos is all I've ever known. Unlike the heroine of Aaa who grew up learning responsibility and care for others, the daily routine my life fell under was compressed with the pressures of being Mommy's perfect little monster. Killing people, taking souls, devouring the last bits of their faith until they begged for mercy; this was what I assumed was my morale. For years, my eyes had not seen sun. Fire was the soul source of light. I'd been the witness to too many tragedies in this pit to say I was pure. I grew up thinking I had to be vicious and evil to meet others' expectations.

At a point in time, a woman saved me when I mysteriously wandered out of the Nightosphere. This woman, now controlled by ice-consuming power in the Land of Aaa, guided me, and many years after, gave me the chance to explore the real world on my own.

That's when I met her. The human. And the moment I met this particular human, epiphany shot me in the face: I wasn't just this bad little boy.

_To me, you're clear; transparent._

Day after day, we got closer. Or maybe that was an understatement in comparison to what she really meant to me, because Fionna was always more than just a friend. Such a simpleton, that girl, always so easy to read. I didn't care so much about reading books, but if she were one, the beginning to the end of each chapter would hold frivolous, carefree imagination, unaware of the volatile creature hovering overhead that secretly cherished her with everything he had.

When I joked around with Fionna, I felt alive, ironically speaking. No matter how many times she'd show me, I never got tired of her laugh, the way she blushed when a tease slipped through my lips, or the way she'd make that cute, angry face of hers when I was able to playfully guess the next thing she'd say.

Though at times, I felt inferior to her. She saved random strangers practically everyday in the Land of Aaa. She'd notice this shakable confidence of mine when we hung out and would slap some sense into me. "You're so much more than what you think you are, Marshall," she'd say again and again until I got sick of hearing it. I loved how, even in the darkest hours, I was safe to depend on her to save me, because that's what Fionna did; she saved those that couldn't save themselves.

_You got a thing for me, girl; it's apparent._

Once my heart felt secure about our relationship, certainty filled the void. Of course, she'd never admit it, but there's was just something in the pit of my stomach that told me.

Fionna liked me.

Or, to my understanding, there was this incomprehensible vibe between us.

I didn't know how, and I had no idea when it may have started, but I was sure. After all, how could I not notice when _I_ was always _looking_ at her? Realizing this, another emotion surfaced with haste. Sheer bliss? No. Gratitude to the mythical place above? Not quite. Words weren't able to clarify what exactly I had felt but that positivity I had was more than enough to suffice.

After unfathomable thinking, I began to doubt myself again. The very existence that shines my way in complete abyss; did I really have the right to be conceited? Set my beliefs on the highest of expectations that, on the assumption, Fionna was actually able to reciprocate my feelings for her?

I couldn't allow myself to be half-assed about my feelings, no matter how many times I tried pushing them away. I loved Fionna. I adored her. I wanted everything in her life to be what she ever wanted. I wanted to be the first person she came to when she was sad about something. I wanted to be the first person she came to when she had good news. My head went crazy picturing her being her undeniably irresistible self with other people other than with me, even if it was someone as close to her as Cake. I was too selfish, because, like a valuable possession you could not part with, I wished for Fionna to never leave me.

Convincing myself was my only gateway to sanity. If I could convince myself of this much, my days as a lifeless vampire didn't matter. Just as long as my blond, delicate human still lived, breathed.

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**AN: I automatically started typing this after seeing the sneak peak for the next genderbend episode _Bad Little Boy_. I cannot tell you how excited I am for this episode. I hope you enjoyed, and please, reviews are very helpful!**


	2. Good Little Girl

**AN: For some reason, all my oneshots are turning into multichapters. **

**Anyways, I wanted to say a thanks to the few reviews I got for my first chapter. After watching the episode, I just had to make a continuation of 'true meanings behind Marshall's words.' I was actually really shocked after watching the episode because lots of my headcanons were true. Go figure, right? Anyways, enjoy this short chapter I made for Marshall's performed song, _Good Little Girl_.**

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_Good little girl, always picking a fight with me._

Fionna was a good person. She was overwhelmingly empathetic to the point that it gave the impression she only stuck around me so much out of charity, pity. She saved people, helped any person or creature in distress, and obeyed the rules like a healthy samaritan should―most of the time, anyways. If she were a dude, you might even call it chivalry, if you're into that sort of thing. Don't get me wrong, though. She's not a goody two-shoes like that excuse of a prince in the Candy Kingdom, _gum_ wad. Nah. Fionna was a tolerable figure in that subject.

The incidental mash of subspecies in the Land of Aaa could be described in thousands―even billions―of words, but synonyms through one definition described what they thought of the Vampire King: scared. Afraid. Terrified. Frightened. Yes, this was the common thought towards my entity. If they weren't pitch forks and flaming, furious torches jabbed in my direction, they were resentful remarks, inexorable accusations, and rude nicknames. I took it all, despite wanting to exist as something else, something that wouldn't make others loathe me the way they did, because the belief that I was born to be hated was engraved in my head. I coveted an outlet, but there was no escaping the fact that I was a monster.

It's kind of funny when the thought comes to mind, though. Fionna never showed signs of fear around me. Ever.

Where did she learn courage, and bravery, and compassion? Was I deserving of this beautiful, incomprehensible being? What was it that kept bringing her back to such a wicked person as myself?

I loved that she wasn't afraid to yell or scold me. I loved how it's so easy to be my real self around her. In other words, was I just in love with her overall?

_You know that I'm bad, but you're spending the night with me._

The poorest quality Aaa's heroine possessed was her absurd judgment on people, or in this case, vampires. 'You're not so bad, you know.' It was a serious topic, so I couldn't laugh, but really, was Fionna blind? Did she not know _anything_ about us freak shows in Aaa? Not to mention, I'm one of the worst kinds out there. My good looks must've rubbed on her too much over the years.

Silly, simple-minded human. It was only natural for me to think she was attempting to make me accept the deniable fact that I'm not as bad as I interpret. The assumption could stand on its own, but she was persistent to see through this unfavorable ultimatum.

I was born to destroy and rebel.

_What do you want from my world?_

Day and night, the question lingers. It's infuriating to even ponder what goes on through that idiotic girl's head. I'm pretty sure she doesn't notice, but when she's around me, her body gets stiffer. Her cheeks flush, and suddenly, she's not that jumpy person you always see hanging around Cake or the other princes. Occasionally she is, but other times, she's just so.. I don't know. Girlier? After observing her a couple times, I tested it.

I flirted with her, teased her, and shoved her around (even literally sometimes), just to get a reaction to prove my diverse theories.

The girl had a crush on me.

Just as the sun warmed frigid morning dew, my dull essence rekindled after years of lost expectation. Life from then on actually had meaning. I finally had a purpose to keep going, and Fionna was that purpose.

_You're a good little girl._

Sharing the same emotions of desire and affection was fruitless. They were forbidden. Prohibited. Though I was so completely bound to the girl, I was not going to ruin her short-lived existence. Not after everything she'd done for me already. She was too good for me, for _anyone_ to be with romantically. She is and would forever remain Aaa's heroine and nothing more or less, because that's what she was meant to be. The inevitable facts were against us.

She, Fionna the Human.

I, Marshall Lee, the Vampire King.


	3. A Thousand Year Old Riddle

**AN: This baby is around 1,5k and corresponds to the poem Marshall said when he took Cake away from Fionna. It's probably the most angsty chapter I've done so far and sort of depressing. But hey, I think I'm getting better at trying to slap more humor in (kind of), and hopefully, you guys enjoy it. Also, I'll be making one more chapter for this, and it'll be a bonus chapter in Fionna's POV, so stay in tune for that. Anyways, enjoy all the angst.**

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_Did you think I was lying?_

I'm not one to tell others what to do, because personally, my submissiveness could only bear to be controlled for so long. Unfortunately, in Fionna's case, the enforcement was fundamental.

You could trust anyone in Aaa, and it wouldn't bother my subjective views between right and wrong conduct in the least: candy people, goblins, queer life forms born from a multiple set of breeds, cats, anybody! My apologizes to those who put themselves in this particular state of mind, but only a _crackhead_ would consider the likelihood that creatures brought from the Nightosphere could be trustworthy or honest. Again, the very human that is the Great Fionna will never cease to marvel me, much less, those around her.

For my sake, would it be possible to give the slightest explanation of what goes on throughout the female process? What's a proper word for something like this.. the basics? Mechanics, maybe? Look, a person like me wouldn't know how else to address it. I've been around for generations, enough to observe the opposite gender for as long as I needed, and I'm still trying to figure it out. It's not something I try to decipher all the time―trust me―but it does makes me curious, periodically speaking.

The interest sparked when I witnessed the unpreventable devouring of Fionna's Conscience with my own eyes. She'd become too careless. Being comfortable around me led her to believe I was not malicious, even after I revealed my gruesome past. After all this time hovering, she hadn't given up the faith she entrusted me with.

It's not like I found joy in lying. Convincing myself I enjoyed it took effort. But at times like these, I couldn't lie. Not to her.

_I said I'm evil without even trying._

Tell me, what is the purpose of malevolent, vicious spirits? Killing people? Nope. Destroying towns and tearing apart guiltless families? Not even close.

Our purpose in life, _my_ purpose specifically, was to spread terror, dread, and anxiety throughout the land. There was never a need to slaughter the innocent or exhibit evil deeds for others to learn my name and title. My duty was to simply have them fear me, a task that required very little activity.

I am the nightmares you wake up to in the middle of the night, the tapping at your glass window, the shadow you perceive when you look at an area from afar and wonder whether or not you saw something or just hallucinated it, and the eyes you feel staring right through your body when you walk alone on a cold, murky night. I feed off the anxious and troubled instincts one would call 'emotions.'

So, as you can plainly see now, I am evil, even when I don't want to be.

_Drinking the red from your heart in one sitting._

What my blonde friend never understood, a part of myself I wouldn't allow her to come across, was how easily I could break her.

Vampires weren't just red sucking, bat transforming creatures of Satan. We were vigorous, sturdy, physically fit to an extent that made it capable to shred someone like Fionna into pieces.

During the times we joked with one another, I was never reckless. It may have appeared that way on the exterior outlook, but I was sure to never purposely use my full power against her. If I made the wrong moves, I could break her leg, get bruises on her delicate skin, or make her bleed to death. With one false motion, I could be the cause of Fionna's suffering, or worse, death.

Her heart was genuine and one of the purest out there, scarce and precious. Her rose-colored life was the single exception to all my morals; I refuse to imbibe its clarity.

_You think you've got me pinned? You must be kidding!_

Nobody owned me. Even _I_ didn't own me. My mother, ruler of the rotting, underground pit imprinted this in my head the first few decades I stayed with her.

"I brought you into this way of life, but you're the Vampire King now, son!"

Kings are supposed to keep to their personage. The term was supposed to be significant; it's not like they gave away titles for nothing. So, in other words, no one ruled over me. Who could? Those who had the audacity to challenge the Vampire King had no idea what they were getting themselves into. I ruled over others. It wasn't arrogance; the account was reality.

By the time I met Fionna, she'd become familiar with royal territory already. Saving princes in distress―hah! What a joke! People in Aaa are much too frail and weak for my inclination. That might've been a good thing, though. After all, I hate going through difficulties when I want to loiter.

Anyways, Fionna was used to these sort of ranks, so it didn't concern her when she found out who I was. Okay, I know she's used to royalty and whatever, but I'm the Vampire King. Shouldn't that have scared her even a little bit? Well, it didn't, so she treated me like every other person. At first, benignity made me happy, but after a while, I begun to ask myself shaky questions. Isn't she treating me like this because she's a heroine or something? She doesn't actually care for me, does she? Doesn't she treat the princes like this, too? Potential trust I built up for Fionna shattered, and suddenly, I didn't find myself to be special in her eyes anymore. I was ordinary.

No one owned me. Not myself, not my mother, and most certainly not Fionna. But I didn't want her to know that. Because I _was_ pinned to her.

_I raise the dead up, and they do my bidding._

The piles of bones that behave in accordance to my will weren't from random corpses. Oh, no. They were unique in that factor. And how exactly were they unique, you ask? These particular skeletons that fell under my command were owned by the thousands of people I've killed with my two, bare hands. Others might think otherwise, but that's the scary truth behind the sorcery. Most assume my powers go beyond the supernatural understanding, when really, I stick by its austere rules as much as the next demon or vampire. If I didn't, the world should create another overrated definition for disorder besides 'chaos.'

These dried up, ancient bones were once my victims at some point in time, and now, they were humble servants, ready to perform any task given to them. It's because they were bound to me. It's because I was the one to shed their blood and take their souls into the Godforsaken fortress under the surface. They were mine to dominate. Their only purpose now was to follow the individual that discontinued their merciful lives.

_Girl, I'm a thousand years old. I'm a riddle._

Trying to grasp, or make effort in achieving comprehension of my thoughts at all, would result in vain labor. My mental organization of cognition was fathomless, mysterious to nescient minds. I was not a puzzle you'd be able to solve in a few minutes or hours. If I was, that would just make me a mockery in the Nightosphere.

I'm a thousand year old riddle. I've sighted the improbable, foreseen the horrors of this world and the next, and strayed far away from any means of salvation.

My beloved heroine disregarded these things and saw me for who I was, not who I used to be. When she's near, I can't help but smile and feel an odd sensation blossom in my once-throbbing heart. My insides ache, and I wish I'd never met her so I didn't have to carry these desires.

She'd never be able to notice my dead emotions, though. A thousand year old riddle was never to be unraveled.

_Bad little boy―yes, I'm bad, but not little._

Ill-natured, short-tempered, and born to rule the undead; it's unavoidable. No matter how many times I utter the words, I am bad, and I know it. Position as a king was a big deal, and it was essential to many to live up to it.

Being bad was not a small job. The adjective itself was only three letters, but three letters that sometimes decided a person's future. Good people, bad people: there was quite a distinction.

But my future had been decided for me long ago. There was no point in trying to change it now.

Out of all things to be conscious of, there was one thing I knew my future wouldn't have. My current life now would be a golden period of my past when a naive, blond haired human became my savior.


	4. Bad Little Boy

**AN: The last chapter of this little experiment I've been working on. This bonus chapter is in Fionna's POV for her performed number _Bad Little Boy_. Now, Fionna's vocabulary isn't as expanded as Marshall's, so try not to question the difference in literature, please. A few people suggested that I do some sort of spin-off of this, make my own story with actual dialogue and stuff but with the same angst. I'm willing to try since it sounds fun, but I'd like to hear more opinions about it, so please, leave reviews and possible prompts if you can. Otherwise, enjoy.  
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_Bad little boy―that's what you're acting like._

He really wasn't as bad as he always claimed to be. Marshall, that is. He was afraid of change, afraid that if he were to acknowledge his concealed persona from within, he'd lose himself completely. I know that the thought of a vampire being scared is sort of far-fetched, but it was true.

I remember the first time I met the Vampire King. The midnight hour poured a billion suns across the sky, clouded by a thin layer of mist on the outskirts of the Goblin Kingdom. Cake and I were on a special duty that evening, one that was essential to the nighttime atmosphere, and a fog began to blur our surroundings. The smell of dried rust filled the air, dense, heavy. It made me dizzy for a while, burning my nostrils with its thick scent. My knees shook, my balance shifting here and there from the dizziness. My right heel hit a moist object from behind, but before I could trip over it, Cake caught my fall. We both turned to the object only to find that it was a dead body, bloody and torn limb from limb, and in the distance, just remotely, we heard a crunching noise. Facing in the direction of the sound, from on top of a hill, stood a figure with a crimson, ominous glow.

The mysterious creature I saw that night would've scared anybody. Heck, it scared Cake. But as I looked closer, longer, I sensed fear emanating from the creature's cold eyes, somehow confused with the situation it was in. My subconscious took over. For some reason, I felt like the creature needed my help, needed _me_. I had stepped towards it, wondering how I could possibly help the poor thing, but before I could say anything, it vanished.

Marshall Lee told me later on (after we'd become friends) that the creature I saw that night was him. He had put up a front for so long, hiding who he really was, but again, for odd reasons, the news didn't phase me. Why was Marshall Lee out there alone at night? Did he know about the dead body Cake and I had seen? Was it possible that he was the one who'd killed the hopeless being? He answered my questions, poured all of his past to me. All I could do was cry and say, "You were so lonely."

_I really don't buy that you're that type of guy._

After that talk with Marshall, he never mentioned his mom, or the Nightosphere, or even that night we saw each other for the first time. I could tell that he wanted his past to stay in the past. Once I brought up any of the subjects, he'd have this pensive look in his eyes, replaying all the horrible memories he carried with him wherever he went. When I saw it, my voice would go quiet, and I would wait until Marshall brought himself back to the real world. It was obvious that his past bothered him, and I had no place to question it.

He wasn't bad, though. No, I didn't believe that. I believed that he played the part in order to keep up with his "reputation" or whatever. The Marshall I knew was, yes, a jerk at times, but he was fun-spirited, carefree, and didn't care what anyone said about him. Or so I thought.

All I knew was that the more time I spent with Marshall, the more I wanted to get to know him. Eventually, I began to crave his company. I don't know when, and I don't know how, but at some point, I knew: I'd fallen in love with him.

_And, if you are, why do you want to hang out with me?_

It made no sense in any type of logic to why Marshall Lee hung out with me so much. I mean, maybe he was bored or just didn't have anyone else to talk to, but what attracted him to_ me_? How was I any different to the thousands of other species living in Aaa? He _was_ a thousand years old. Maybe he'd grown tired of everything in life already and wanted to try spending time with one of the only living humans in the world? I assumed I was the only one of my kind, anyway. I didn't know. It's not like I've seen another being like myself. If that wasn't the case, then what exactly was?

I couldn't think about it too long without hurting my head. I wasn't sure what the perks of being a half demon, half vampire were, but aside from my awesome fighting skills, I don't find myself to be all that interesting. It was my luck that someone as curiously alluring and entertaining as the Vampire King actually wanted to be my friend.

Personal feelings would get in the way of my deduction and reasoning when I tried figuring it out. Did Marshall like me, too? Stupid questions like that filled my head. My desire to know was so awfully annoying, but I couldn't help but wonder: Maybe if I wasn't Aaa'a heroine.

Maybe if he wasn't the Vampire King.

Was I deserving of such a bewildering love? I'd never be able to find out.


End file.
